Tag: Kyrielle

Kyrielle at Dawn

On By Beleaguered ServantIn Original Poems5 Comments

Across, beyond, and in between,
This is the place where we exist;
These limits we can’t contravene —
  For now, we gaze into the mist.

We see the sunlight on the rise,
But with the day, will it persist?
So much that seems is in disguise:
  For now, we gaze into the mist.

From long ago, the voices tell
The struggles of which lives consist:
To be — it means, to be unwell —
  For now, we gaze into the mist.

In music, and in memory,
In those last-held, and those first-kissed,
Are love and hope, life’s treasury —
  For now, we gaze into the mist.

Onset

On By Beleaguered ServantIn Original Poems1 Comment

A drop that spreads into a pool,
And bleeds his conscience thereupon;
To be, but be a useless tool —
He feels depression coming on

The slow way in, the quick way out,
The answers leaving only doubt,
The dash that turns to marathon —
He feels depression coming on

A spectacle, phenomenon,
This sophistry of heart and soul:
An actor, daily in his role —
He feels depression coming on

A night that never sees a dawn,
A breaking down once shades are drawn,
When all he is, is lost, and gone —
He feels depression coming on

Kyrielle

On By Beleaguered ServantIn Original Poems7 Comments

The moments may come fast or slow,
The day may panicked be, or zen:
Though we have near or far to go,
We cannot live the past again

There is a silence in the wood,
There is a stillness in the glen,
Though life go bad and hearts come good,
We cannot live the past again

We all would see the world be changed
As girls to women — boys to men —
Then find our heart from hope estranged,
We cannot live the past again

The tracks run far to unknown land,
The chance that comes we cannot ken —
Through all the lives of distance spanned
We cannot live the past again

The unused treadmill at the gym,
The ink gone dry within the pen,
The sun gone down, the eye gone dim,
We cannot live the past again

The grass beyond the railroad track,
The “one day” that demarks the “then” —
The way is forward, never back:
We cannot live the past again

 

(“Kyrielle” – 5-25-2017)

I cast my soul upon the moors…

On By Beleaguered ServantIn Original Poems2 Comments

I cast my soul upon the moors.
So much is wrong that brooks no cures;
And so to darkness, I take flight,
And wait the coming of the night.

If I knew anything at all,
I’d take it: whether large or small.
But I see only empty white –
And wait the coming of the night.

So many looked-for dreams have sailed,
And where I should have won, I’ve failed;
I feel the cold, the sting, the bite,
And wait the coming of the night.

For many who I’ve loved are lost,
And much I’ve done bears mortal cost —
As weary, I give up the fight,
And wait the coming of the night